


Temptation

by uisceB



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Also Alex Danvers/Reign kinda, Angst, F/F, Jealousy, Reign's pov, Tumblr Prompt, voyeurism-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 14:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14813507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uisceB/pseuds/uisceB
Summary: Agentreign tumblr prompt: JealousyReign wasn’t about to admit this to anyone—certainly not to the AI of the dark priestess from Argo City—but there were times when she couldn’t help but be a little jealous of Sam.





	Temptation

Reign wasn’t about to admit this to anyone—certainly not to the AI of the dark priestess from Argo City—but there were times when she couldn’t help but be a little jealous of Sam.

It was only very small degrees of jealousy at first, mostly because she hadn’t quite gotten a handle on fighting Sam’s control yet. Sam had had near iron-clad control over their shared body for almost thirty years before Reign was even able to struggle to the surface for so much as a minute. And even then, Sam was strong, stronger than she had any right to be. Reign could only hold on for a few moments here and there, never so much as a full day before Sam reclaimed what Reign had been taught to believe was rightfully hers.

In those beginning months of struggling to the surface, Reign shared in Sam’s disorientation. Just as Sam couldn’t remember Reign’s actions, Reign couldn’t recall Sam’s. Sometimes a blurred image would cross her mind, but nothing solid. At the time, all it was was annoying.

It wasn’t until several weeks had passed, several weeks of trying to grasp control for more than a few moments at a time, that Reign started to wish she could remember Sam’s episodes.

She blamed it almost entirely on who she would eventually come to learn was a woman called Alex Danvers. A human. An enemy. Something that needed to be destroyed.

But there was evidence of her in Sam’s life that gave Reign pause.

The first incident was the curl of seven numbers written in pen on Reign’s hand when she awoke one afternoon. A phone number. Reign rolled her eyes. Wasn’t that what _phones_ were for? Couldn’t those numbers just be entered into the little devices themselves? What, were humans in the habit now of writing their numbers on one another’s skin as some mark of claim? Or was it just laziness; either Sam, or whoever this other person was, had lost their phone.

Reign didn’t read into it too much. She didn’t have Sam’s memories, but she had a general understanding of the world around her due to the heavy stream of information the AI provided her with that outlined everything from human evolution, to war, to yes, even high school. From what she could recall of said information, writing phone numbers on hands seemed like the sort of thing a love-sick adolescent might do. Humiliating to think that the ego with which she shared this body would act in such a way.

It was simple enough to get rid of, of course. Her initial bouts of punishing the guilty were geared towards those who had the sort of wealth that made them immune to any feeble human constructs of justice. New to it all, she started with them, killing silently, effectively, then disappearing before a scene could be made. There was a feeling of great satisfaction that purred in her when she washed their blood off her hands, and once it was gone, so too was the idiotic phone number.

Some weeks later, as Reign was starting become just a little bit stronger, she awoke with a cotton ball taped to her inner elbow with a bandaid. When she peeled it off, she was greeted with the sight of a tiny purpled cluster of veins—the site where a needle had punctured her skin.

It was during times like these that Reign remembered how pathetically fragile her body became when Sam took control. To think that an ordinary needle could puncture her skin was ridiculous.

To make things even more ridiculous, when she looked over at the nightstand beside Sam’s bed, there was a small bag full of lollipops, and on them, a note which read very simply: _Feel better! -Alex_

Now, there were many things Argo’s dark priestess had advised Reign of. Ignoring Sam’s personal possessions was a big one. If possible, the dark priestess recommended she awaken when she wasn’t at Sam’s home, so she wouldn’t be tempted to associate any of those possessions as things with any meaning. Most importantly, she said, keep far away from Sam’s child. Ignore drawings of hers that Sam had kept hanging on the fridge, and for the sake of all they were working for, do not look at pictures of her.

Reign didn’t mention how difficult it was for her to be able wrestle control over the body she shared with Sam, loath to think that the dark priestess might find weakness in her. It was always easiest to awaken at night, when Sam had drifted off to asleep and had very few defenses to hold Reign at bay. Typically, Reign was able to disappear from the house before taking in any of her surroundings, but this time, her eye caught on that bag of lollipops and its note from _Alex._ It seemed such an odd mix between _im_ personal, and _deeply_ personal. For the life of her, she couldn’t tell which it was.

Annoyed by her uncertainty, she took the skies and hunted—violently, brutally, carelessly. A mess was made, a spectacle of horror. Reign was able to keep control of her body for nearly a full 24 hours—the longest she’d ever succeeded in.

But eventually, as always, Sam dragged her back down again.

When Reign awakened a full two days later, her body was marked in a way that troubled Reign. Light bruises the shape of fingerprints, marks on her neck, chest, and inner thigh. And on the nightstand again, lollipops, but this time arranged into some pitiful imitation of a bouquet, and another note from _Alex._

Reign knew what it all entailed, of course, but it unnerved her to see her body so marked. It wasn’t too far of a stretch to believe that Sam would have tried to find physical comfort following such a long, disorienting blackout due to Reign’s violence. It would be terrifying as a human who was unaware of what was happening to keep losing time, and if Sam was as smart as Reign thought she must be…there had to be a part of her that might be putting certain pieces together.

It was still strange, and so human, to think that a human would go to another human for comfort, and that these marks would be the result. Sam’s frustration, or fear, or possibly even unknowing guilt, must have manifested in something rougher. Humans sometimes enjoyed their own pain, after all.

As the days and weeks passed, Reign began to sense a pattern to the way Sam took comfort by the marks—or lack thereof—on her body. When Reign slaughtered, Sam awoke needing rougher sex from Alex. When Reign hunted silently, Sam found comfort in something softer, gentler. Just as Reign was getting flashes of memory from Sam’s life, Sam must have been starting to get flashes of—probably not _memory,_ but _feeling_.

Reign ran her hands over the marks, foolishly imagining she could rinse them off when she rinsed the splatters of blood from her skin. Sam was able to fight her off so many nights now, held in someone’s arms—held in _Alex’s_ arms. The thought was disturbing. Reign had seen, time and time again, the way people reacted when they witnessed her attacks on others. They would hold each other, like they could keep each other safe from her that way. And in those split moments, Reign would be unable to detect the sin in them. They became almost innocent.

Someone was holding Sam like that when Reign was caged away in her mind. Someone was protecting her from her fears. Pathetic and disgustingly _human_ as those fears were, this person, this lover, this _Alex_ was there, holding her to make them go away.

And she was making Sam much too strong.

Reign questioned the dark priestess of Argo—with careful wording so as to seem unmoved and simply curious—if there was a way for her to stay wakeful when Sam was. The priestess paused, hesitant to give her a full answer as if concerned that if Reign viewed Sam’s life through her own eyes, the human side of her might influence Reign’s understanding of right and wrong, of justice. 

That hesitance was answer enough in and of itself. There was a way. Reign simply had to find it. 

In the end, it was simply discipline, and trial and error. She was never able to fully see or feel everything Sam saw or felt, but there was _something._ She caught her first glimpse of Alex frantically spraying the fire extinguisher at Sam’s stove during what was clearly a dastardly cooking mishap. Reign had never seen any particular use in appraising a human’s appearance, but it was hard to ignore that almost overwhelming spark of charm in Alex’s guilty smile. Nearly burning down Sam’s house, and Reign still felt a pull toward her.

She tried to shut the feeling down quickly, and accidentally shut herself out of Sam for nearly three days straight.

She tried once again to focus. She knew not to try to be wakeful when Sam was around Ruby because that more than anything could sway her feelings in the most monumental and self destructive way possible. But around Alex? She did her best to navigate through the treacherous labyrinth of Sam’s mind to get a glimpse of her life.

She listened carefully, taught herself to catch on to Alex’s voice, open just a tendril of awareness in Sam’s otherwise controlled self when she was around. It was never anything complete, and it changed every time. Sometimes she saw them together as if watching them from above, naked bodies intertwined, the flex and play of muscles shifting, straining under pressure, under pleasure.

Other times she could feel it, the drag of Alex’s fingernails down her arms or pulling her hair, lips skimming over her skin, sharp teeth nipping, tongue licking searing hot stripes of pleasure, fingers delving inside her. At times like these, she could never get a full picture, only flashes of color, sparks of mischief in dark brown eyes. Reign let herself float, sharing the pleasure Alex gave Sam, almost content to let Sam have control over their shared body if it meant feeling all this.

Of course, that thought left a sour taste in her mouth. Being subservient to a human? Unthinkable. And being subservient for such a base, trivial thing as physical pleasure? Disgusting.

But in those moments after, when she could feel Alex’s arms around Sam, knowing the way they looked, the way it mirrored those humans who loved and tried to protect each other from her…that suddenly didn’t seem quite so trivial, quite so base.

Temptation. And not just temptation of physical pleasure, temptation in something simultaneously softer and harder, somehow felt more deeply.

Clearly, Reign thought, Alex needed to be gotten rid of. She knew her face now, she could recognize her if she saw her—and she did. She met her in battle several times, only to be thwarted time and again by Supergirl. In these times, she would flee, and lose control, falling back into Sam who fell back into Alex’s arms, and it felt so good that Reign soon became sickened by the thought of ever having wanted to hurt Alex at all.

There came a time when Reign was finally able to wear Sam down, almost completely. Sam had fooled her once before, though, always proving herself to have one last bit of reserve in her to keep fighting her off. So Reign wasted no time in executing justice—not just upon the individuals responsible for the state of sin in the world, but upon the world itself. She would destroy those who had hurt, and those who tried so foolishly to protect the ones they loved, who would hold each other the way Alex held Sam. She would make the entire world feel the weight of her name, why she was called Reign.

But of course Alex was the one to bring her down, the one to shoot bolts of Kryptonite all through her veins, sending her pitching down into the Earth, hard enough that Sam’s body would have broken without Reign’s presence. 

She arched in agony on the concrete as another series of jolts went screaming through her veins. She gasped for air, finding none, only pain, only fire in her lungs. A needle was thrust into her throat, and thick, black liquid wormed its way through her. She fought for air with which to scream, hadn’t known such pain as this even existed.

But then Alex’s hands were on her, and a splash of hot tears fell to her throat.

“Sam?” 

Alex’s voice, broken and high-pitched.

“Sam?”

Vaguely, Reign felt her grip on Sam’s mind slipping—felt her body slipping away. Her vision of Alex was clearing, becoming separate, as if she were seeing her with her own eyes again. But with the clearer vision, her ability to feel Alex was leaving her. Alex’s hands were on her, weren’t they? Or were they on someone else?

Reign realized with dulled pain that she was seeing them, seeing both of them, seeing Alex _and_ Sam, as if she were no longer a part of Sam at all. Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she wasn’t at all, because now Sam and Alex were looking at _her,_ as if she were a separate entity, her own body.

Reign looked down at herself through her searing, choked-in breaths and saw the way that black liquid  was shooting thickly through each twist of her veins. They’d found a way to separate her from Sam, to give her her own body, to kill her.

Reign continued desperately to draw in air but found it more and more impossible with each passing second. She stared at them, at Alex holding Sam tightly, at Sam holding her as well, grateful to be free, grateful to be alive, and tried to imagine that it was her. Those hands, Alex’s hands, those were made for Sam. They were made to protect Sam, to love Sam, and they would for years, for decades, for a lifetime.

But even still, as Reign felt herself being coaxed closer and closer toward death, she imagined it was Alex’s hands on her instead, coaxing her there, and holding her just as she would always hold Sam.

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda may have just accidentally made myself feel bad for Reign. Oops.


End file.
